


You're Bad Enough When You're Sober

by darklonelyspace



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklonelyspace/pseuds/darklonelyspace
Summary: Miraak has been rescued from Apocrypha by the Last Dragonborn, who now just so happens to be his lover. He is free and a woman who is quite possibly the strongest mortal in all of Tamriel is by his side. Life should be perfect, right?What he did not anticipate was this woman going off and getting drunk with all her friends in Whiterun, and then dealing with the aftermath of a very wasted Dragonborn. Petty arguments and fluff ensue.





	You're Bad Enough When You're Sober

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic posted! I know I'm extremely late to the party, but I had to contribute something to this fandom since Skyrim is somewhat the mother-game to me that precedes all of the other RPG's I've played. And what better way to do so than to give Miraak more love? Hence my feeble attempt at contribution.

He knew this would happen. The moment they had walked into the city and she was greeted by all her old pals, he just _knew_ it was going to happen.

The only unknown factor was when.

So, while she had entered the mead hall surrounded by a large chunk of Whiterun’s population, Miraak had settled himself on a stone foundation near the streams flowing through the city’s canal —a book in hand and a scowl plastered on his face to deter any children from pestering him. Hours had bled by before he knew it, and he eventually had to cast his own light to read once the sun fell below the mountains, but it was only when people were stumbling their way back to their homes bathed in moonlight that he finally got up to collect his lover.

And, of course, she was still in the center of the mass of people, mug in one hand (no doubt refilled countless times) and the other raised in demonstration as she rehearsed a story that was most likely true but probably exaggerated if he knew how alcohol affected her. Sure enough, as he approached the table where she sat, he picked up some pieces of the retelling and fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“—just me and him. Until Odahviing swooped in and tossed him into the air! By Talos, you should have seen his face as he fell! And the ungodly shriek! Reminded me of the time Farkas saw that spider back in Cronvangr Cave!”

Laughter erupted among the group, and Valdalynn raised her elbow —probably to nudge the man in question— but miscalculated and would have tumbled out of her own chair had Miraak not seized her by the arm.

“Miraak!” she blurted, raising her head to meet his gaze and grinning as if she was not still practically dangling in his hold. “How kind of you to visit.”

“I think it’s time we head home,” Miraak advised quietly and with barely concealed disgust. He hated alcohol, hated the effects it had on people, and the glazed look in his partner’s eyes was none-too attractive right now. This level of intoxication was far too unbecoming for someone of her status, and he intended to tell her as much once they were far enough away from curious ears.

She somehow managed to resituate herself and free her arm from his grip. “Nonsense! The night is still young and I intend to spend it with this good company!” Without warning she raised her mug in the air once more —sloshing mead all over him and herself— and let out a hearty whoop. Her companions did the same, equally if not more inebriated than her. Miraak scowled and jerked away, wiping his robes as best he could of the foul liquid (now even _he_ smelled of alcohol), no longer bothering to feign politeness.

“As much as I hate to interrupt your little party, I must insist. You’re inebriated and you don’t know what’s best for you in this state. Now come.”

“Is that a request or a demand?”

He saw that fire in her eyes. Even with —no, _especially_ with her being drunk, he knew it was one best left unstirred. “May I speak with you? Alone?”

“What for?”

“Oh, for the love of—” he caught himself. “Valdalynn, I’m heading home. I will wait precisely five minutes beyond that door for you to join me, and then I’m leaving, with or without you.” With that, he turned and walked back to the door he had entered through, closing it none too gently and releasing a deep breath once it had slammed shut. There was a moment’s pause, and then the clamor in the hall rose up behind him once again, even more prominent after the previous silence.

Miraak waited, counting the minutes off in his head and growing more irritated by the second. He was just about to leave when the door to the mead hall opened, momentarily shedding light on the otherwise dark city. He turned to see who it was, for a second thinking it was some other drunk person stumbling through the door, but no; it was his drunk person. Valdalynn was grumbling about him being a stick-in-the-mud and how he had no appreciation for her story-telling talents, her words accentuated by hiccups.

“Hush, will you? You’re unbearable enough when sober.”

She leaned into him for support as they started walking, and he would have refused had he not actually been concerned about her ability to make the trip home. He sighed, reluctantly wrapping an arm around her and making sure to choose the paths unoccupied by guards, lest they be seen and face humiliation.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he chided suddenly. “Someone with the title of _Dovahkiin_ should not be seen stumbling about at night like a drunkard.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” she retorted directly in his ear. “If I’m such an embarrassment, why don’t you just leave me here, huh? Go home by yourself and sit on your fancy bed with your— your fancy pillows, and your fancy air—”

“Stop being stupid.”

“Don’t call me stupid!” She shoved away from him suddenly, and he was surprised she managed to stay on her feet with the way she was swaying to and fro. “I’m _not_ stupid! You’re stupid, thinking you’re above me when _I_ defeated _you_.”

“Will you be quiet?” he snapped, glancing around them. “People can probably hear you flapping your gums all the way in Winterhold.”

“What does it matter? Let them hear me!”

She turned away, intending to go who knows where, considering there was a house directly in her path, and Miraak growled and pulled her away, this time completely in his arms. She started sputtering.

“What— Put me down this instance!” Like an offended cat, Valdalynn immediately started kicking and hissing, but fortunately left it at that.

“I won’t until you’re at home where you can’t hurt yourself.”

His strained words did nothing to ease her resistance; if anything, she began struggling more. “And what if someone sees me? This is humiliating!”

Miraak avoided an elbow that had come a bit too close for comfort, then snapped, “Oh, believe me, you’re doing that on your own just fine.”

She fell mercifully and unexpectedly quiet, but he could still feel the daggers she was glaring up at his face. Taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Miraak walked briskly, using the fastest route he knew to reach their home in Whiterun, the Dragonborn in his arms only breaking the silence with the occasional hiccup.

Finally, he pushed them through the wooden door, sighing in relief when the warm glow of the hearth greeted them, so welcome after hurrying through the dark and frosty streets they had left. It was a quaint little house, one of the smallest she owned, but he wasn’t in any mood to complain about it now. Besides, he would sooner leap through the gates of Oblivion than carry a drunk Valdalynn across Skyrim just to get to a more appropriate home. He walked up the stairs and into the master bedroom, tossing her unceremoniously onto the furs, not really wanting to look at her after what she had just put them both through.

She grunted, but didn’t move from her pathetic position, the only indication she was alive being the slow whine that escaped her.

“Pull yourself together,” he snapped. “This is no way a—”

“A person like me should act. I get it,” she sighed. “Now could you please stop attacking me and bring me some water?”

He bristled, but the lack of fight in her tone made him comply, if only because it was so out of character for her to not bite back. When he returned, she was still unmoved, but nonetheless reached an arm out to grab the glass as he approached. Miraak released a world-weary sigh and, settling beside her on the bed, he pulled her into a sitting position. Only then did he hand her the drink, keeping a close eye on her to ensure she didn’t spill it all over herself or the sheets.

Valdalynn eventually handed the empty cup back to him and he sat it on the nightstand; by the time he turned back to face her, she had rested her head on his shoulder. He stilled, but didn’t push her away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his skin.

“You should be,” he replied.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Will you forgive me, though?”

Miraak sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “Yes.”

She was quiet for only a moment, then broke the silence once more. “I’m sorry I’m bad at being what you expect me to be.”

He hesitated. “You’re not— I wasn’t…” Yet another sigh. “I was angry. I didn’t mean what I said at the time.”

“You think I should act more like how a Dragonborn should.”

“I think you should realize that not everyone expects the same thing of you.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he said, “that you don’t have to try to please the entire world. Saving it from Alduin’s wrath is more than enough for one person. If you can defeat him, then it doesn’t matter that you sometimes get insufferably drunk or that you are almost always pigheaded. You’ve already proven your worth twice over.”

There was a long pause. “It might just be the alcohol, but I think you just complimented me _and_ admitted that you were wrong in a single conversation.”

He sighed. How many times had he done that today?

“What changed your mind so quickly?” she asked.

“I think I was just tired of watching you mope,” Miraak replied.

“Hey!” He felt the corners of his mouth lift in a faint smile, and she leaned further into him. “Gods,” she mumbled. “I’m really drunk. Please help me.”

“I thought that was what I was doing.”

“Yeah, emotionally, maybe. But I feel like I’m about to puke all over us.”

“For the love of Akatosh!” He was out of the bed in an instant.

Valdalynn was laughing now. “I’m kidding, Miraak. Everyone knows the nausea usually doesn’t hit until the morning after.”

“You’re a mess,” he repeated, but this time there was no venom in his words.

“You love me, though,” she stated.

“Because some higher power has a twisted sense of humor,” he grumbled, and she lit up the room with laughter once more.


End file.
